


We Pick Ourselves Undone

by boneslegendaryhands



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, twitter au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 09:57:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4096639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boneslegendaryhands/pseuds/boneslegendaryhands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hillary posted “you’re a celebrity who just broke up and i tweeted you a selfie with the caption “date me” as a joke but you thought i was serious? Gallavich AU.“</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Ian Gallagher dropped his book bag on the floor of the apartment he shared with his brother and flopped onto the couch with a sigh.

“Rough day?” his brother asked.

“I swear, trigonometry is going to be the death of me, Lip. Who the fuck cares about sines and cosines?”

Lip chuckled and stood up, heading to the kitchen.. “Well, if I wasn’t a robotics major, I’d cosine that.”

Ian glared at him and flipped him off. “I hate this class. With every fiber of my being.”

“What happened?” Lip asked, shoving a beer in Ian’s face.

Ian took a long pull then held the bottle in two hands, picking at the label. “I got a 62 on the test last week. I’m gonna fail this class.”

Lip sat down beside him and wrapped his arm around Ian’s shoulders. “No you’re not, I’ll help. I aced Trig and I’ll help you through it.”

Ian looked over at his brother and smiled. “Thanks, man.”

“You’re welcome, asshole,” Lip said, slapping Ian on the back and moving back over to the chair he had been sitting in.

Ian set his bottle on the table and pulled out his iPhone, bring up his Twitter app. He started scrolling through his feed, chuckling at a few funny ones, retweeting a few others. He was near the top of his feed when he sat up quickly. “Holy shit!”

“What?” Lip asked, finishing off his beer and belching loudly.

“Mickey Milkovich broke up with Svetlana.”

“Jesus Christ, Ian. I thought something important happened!”

“Fuck you, jerk. God, I’ve had such a crush on him for so long now. I shouldn’t be happy about this, but I can’t help it,” Ian said, looking up at Lip and grinning.

“Dude, Milkovich is the lead singer of Rub & Tug, one of the most popular bands around right now. Not as if he’s going to fall in love with you. I mean, I love you and you’re great and all, but c’mon.”

“I know, Lip, I’m not stupid. But him being single helps with the fantasy, yanno?”

Lip shook his head and went back to his text book with his highlighter. “What are you going to do, send him a selfie and say ‘Date me?’”

“No, of course not,” Ian told him. _But man, just one night with him._ Ian had been crushing on Mickey Milkovich for months now, ever since rumors started flying that Mickey swung both ways. It had never been confirmed, but the stories were there and they were plentiful. He was gorgeous - dark hair, brilliant blue eyes and the ink. Ian was particularly partial to the FUCK-U-UP tats on Mickey’s fingers. Oh how he had fantasized about those fingers. And the fact that they seemed to have a lot in common - especially as they both hailed from Chicago’s South Side - fueled the crush even more. Ian wasn’t naive enough to think he stood a chance with Mickey, but that didn’t stop the daydreams. Or Mickey featuring prominently in his mastubatory fantasties. Ian sighed heavily and stood. “I’m gonna go change. Pizza for dinner?”

Lip grunted in approval, not looking up from his studies. Ian laughed and made his way to his bedroom. He stood in front the mirror, checking his reflection. _“What are you going to do, send him a selfie and say ‘Date me?’_ Ian placed his hands on the dresser, pondering Lip’s flippant remark. _What the hell._ Ian stripped off his shirt and grabbed his phone, opening the camera app. He held the camera at a few different angles, but wasn’t satisfied with any of them. _Gotta make this good, Gallagher. You got one shot._ Looking around the room, he threw himself onto the bed and crawled up to the headboard. He placed his head down on the pillow and laid his body half on his back and half on his side. He held the phone up and adjusted until he got just the right angle - high enough to get the majority of his torso, including the tattoo on his side and his making sure his face was also in frame. He smiled and snapped the picture. He took a few more for good measure, but after looking at them, decided the first one was the best. 

He took a deep breath and opened his twitter app again and scrolled until he found the tweet.

_UkranianThug Free at last, free at last. Thank god almighty I’m free at last. #singleagain #thankgod #nowacceptingapplications_

_SouthSideGinger @UkranianThug http://pic.twitter.com/789asjg3 - application submitted. Pending approval._

Ian clicked “Post” and tossed his phone on the bed next to him. He stood and rummaged through his dresser, finding an old pair of sweats and his favorite ROTC t-shirt. He grabbed his phone and made his way back to the living room. His phone chimed with an email notification.

_UkranianThug is now following you._

“Holy shit! 

_UkranianThug has sent you a direct message. “Your application has been received and is being reviewed. Also, what’s up fire crotch?”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay in this. Life threw me a whole bunch of curve balls and I haven't been able to write. But here's the next chapter. Hopefully it won't be as long in between.

“Oh. My. God.  Ohmygod ohmygod.”

“Oh my god what?” Lip asked.

“I…I can’t believe…holy shit.”

Lip snapped his book shut and tossed it on the floor.  “What?  Ian, what happened?”

“I…” Ian dropped down onto the couch, staring at his phone.  His body started to tingle and he found it hard to breathe.  Is this really happening?  He read the direct message for probably the hundredth time in the last minute.  He looked up at Lip and back to the phone, his jaw practically hanging on the floor.

“Ian?  Are you ok?”  Lip asked, standing and crossing the room.  He sat down next to Ian, placing his hand on his shoulder and shaking him.  When Ian didn’t respond, Lip punched him on the arm.  “Dude, you’re starting to scare me.  What happened?”

Ian looked at Lip, his face turning red with embarrassment.  He looked at the phone one more time then took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.  “So, I may have sent a selfie to Mickey.  Mostly as a joke.”

“Dude, you didn’t.  Really?”

Ian nodded. “I did.  But honestly, Lip.  I didn’t expect anything.  It was just…a whim.”

Lip scowled at him, shaking his head.  “Dude.  So what the fuck has you so freaked out?”

Ian smiled and opened his email on his phone and handed it to Lip.

“What am I looking at assho…oh!”

“Yeah.”

“What the fuck did you send him, a picture of your dick?”

Ian grabbed the phone back and smacked Lip on the back of his head.  “No, jerk.  Just a selfie.”

“Huh,” Lip shrugged.  “Cool, I guess.”

“I guess?”

“Well, I mean, it’s not like I fantasize about Mickey Milkovich when I jerk off or anything.  But that’s pretty cool, dude.”

Ian looked at Lip suspiciously, his eyes in a tight squint.

Lip threw his hands up in the air in surrender.  “Seriously Ian.”

Ian tried to hide the grin threatening to form on his face and failed.  “Thanks, Lip.”

“Know what you’re going to say back?”

No fucking clue.”

Lip laughed and slapped him on the back.  “Well, you’re on your own with that one.  Best of luck and may the force be with you.”

“Thanks for the support, dickhead.”

“It’s what I do.  Now go figure out what you’re going to say to your boyfriend.  I’ll order the pizza.”

Ian stood and shot Lip the bird, “He’s not my boyfriend, asshole,” he said and stalked to his bedroom.  He closed the door and fell onto his bed in a huff.  He looked at the direct message again, pondering the best way to respond.  After a few minutes, he started typing.

_Direct message to UkranianThug: Hey Mick. Nothing much. Chillin. Havin a beer and just ordered pizza.  You?_

Less than a minute later he received the notification.

_Direct message from UkranianThug: lol pretty much the same. Minus the pizza. Beer and chips on the tourbus. #livinthelife_

Ian smirked and then tapped out his reply.

_Direct message to UkranianThug: Sounds exciting. I think my brother & I are going to head to bar (Alibi Room) later._

His phone chirped less than thirty seconds later.

_Direct message from UkranianThug: ALIBI ROOM? As in Kev Ball?  YOU SOUTH SIDE CARROT TOP?_

_Direct message to UkranianThug: Fuck yes. Grew up on North Wallace Street._

_Direct message from UkranianThug: JFC.  We were practically neighbors. You still there?_

_Direct message to UkraninanThug: Sort of. College now, but still in Chicago. Family still there._

_Direct message from UkranianThug: Small fuckin’ world. Hottest thing I’ve seen in ages is from my neighborhood._

_Direct message from UkranianThug: where were you a few years ago when I was still there?_

Ian couldn’t help but feel giddy. Hottest thing I’ve seen in ages. Fuck, was this really happening?

_Direct message to UkranianThug: You know.  Around.  Working at the Kash and Grab. Where were you?_

_Direct message from UkranianThug: Kash and Grab. Now I know you’re from the neighborhood. Wait…i remember you!_

_Direct message to UkranianThug: You do?_

_Direct message from UkranianThug: Yeah I was in there a lot. You’re the cute ginger who worked there. Goddamn._

Ian grinned.  He didn’t remember Mickey being in the Kash and Grab, but it was before he was famous, so it really didn’t mean anything that Ian couldn’t recall it.  His phone chimed again.

_Direct message from UkranianThug:  Application status: final review. Pending acceptance._

_Direct message to UkranianThug: Final review eh?  Does that mean I passed the interview?_

_Direct message from UkranianThug: Gimme your number, firecrotch and we’ll see._

Ian waited a few minutes to see if his phone would ring or his text message tone would go off.  After staring at the phone for five minutes and it remaining silent, he shook his head and sighed and headed to the living room.  He dropped down onto the couch with a sigh.

“Romeo shoot you down?”  Lip asked, bringing the bottle of beer to his lips.

Ian glared at Lip.  “No.  He actually asked for my phone number.”

Lip coughed and spit as he choked on the gulp of beer he had just taken.  “Seriously?”

“Mhmm,” Ian nodded smugly.

“So why did you come in here like a teenage girl waiting for the boy to call just now?”

Ian looked up from his phone, his face showing his contempt for his brother.  “I did not.”

Lip stood up from his chair and walked over to the couch, dropping down and sighing melodramatically. “Oh Mickey!”

Ian’s arm shot out and smacked Lip across the chest.  Hard.  

“Ow, motherfucker!”

“You deserved it asshole."

“Let me guess, you gave him your number and you haven’t heard anything.”

Ian shrugged, still staring at his phone.  “Maybe.”

Lip couldn’t control the bark of laughter that escaped.  “Dude, it’s been what.  Five fucking minutes?  Jesus fucking Christ, you’re worse than a girl.”

Ian tried to smack Lip again, but this time he was prepared and caught Ian’s arm before it connected with his chest.  Ian pulled hard to remove himself from Lip’s grasp, but Lip held tight.  “Let me go, asshole.” Ian tugged again and this time Lip released his arm and Ian smacked himself in the face.

“There, maybe that’ll knock some common sense into you, you fucking lovesick fool.  He asked for your number.  That’s far more than you expected when you sent the stupid picture to him.  Chill the fuck out, asshole.”

Ian looked from his phone to Lip and back again.  Sighing, he set his phone on the coffee table.  “You’re right.  I just.  I don’t know.  I guess I got caught up in everything.”

Lip placed his hand on Ian’s shoulder and squeezed.  “I know, dude.  Just, give it a minute.  If he’s really interested, he’ll contact you.  Ball’s in his court now.  All you can do is wait.”

Ian flopped back onto the couch, scrubbing his face with his hands.  “I know.  I know!  I just…Yeah. Ok.”  He turned and smiled at Lip.  “When’s the fucking pizza getting here?  And where the fuck is my beer?”

After devouring the pizza and a six-pack of beer, along with an hour of Lip trying to explain trigonometry to Ian, they both decided to quit for the evening and retired to their respective rooms.  Ian shut the door and grabbed his laptop, plugging his phone in to charge.  He went over the research he had gathered for his English research paper.  Ian wasn’t thrilled about working with a group, but it was a big part of his grade, and luckily they were all on the same page when discussing “Did Shakespeare really write his own works?  And if not, who did?”  They were meeting tomorrow at 9:30 in the morning and he wanted to make sure he had his part ready to discuss.

He had transferred a few more of his handwritten notes into the document on his computer when his phone chimed.  Ian lifted his head with a start and scrambled across his bed to grab his phone.  There was a number he didn’t recognize, but the message told him who it was from.

_Hey Firecrotch._

Ian quickly opened the text and tapped the details button, then the info button and pressed Create New Contact saving the number under “Mick.”

_Hey Mickey._

Ian watched as the dots indicated Mickey was typing something in response.

_Sorry it took so long to get back to you. Tour bus stopped for gas and break and there was a bar so we had a few drinks._

Ian chuckled. _No problem. Was just working on homework anyway._

There was silence for a few minutes before the phone chirped again. _Homework? You in high school yet?_

_College. Working on english paper._

_Another minute of silence passed.  Thank god._

_;) So can I ask whereabouts you are or is that to stalker?_

_Middle of bumfuck somewhere.  Idk.  We’re on our way to minneapolis so I’m guessing iowa somewhere._

_Lol. I guess that’s why you have a tour bus driver._

_And road manager. Lol. Even though he’s my worthless brother._

_Haha_

Another few minutes passed and Ian went back to reading through his notes.  He saw the screen light up before he heard the text message tone.

_What are you going to school for?_

_Not quite sure yet. Thinking business but haven’t decided. Just a freshman so I have time._

_Cool. Was never one for school. But good for you._

_Yeah. It’s ok. Kicking my ass right now though._

_I bet. The road is doing the same to me._

_I can’t even imagine._

Another silence passed, this one longer than the rest.  Just when Ian had decided their conversation was over for the evening, his phone told him he had another text.

_See you have an iPhone. Texting is a bitch and my fingers are tired. You FaceTime?_

Ian gulped and his heart started pounding.   _Facetime?  With Mickey?  Fuck._  He got up and ran to the mirror, running his fingers through his hair to try and bring it under some sort of control after the beating he gave it earlier.  His phone chirped again.

_Ian? You there?_

He sat down on the bed, clutching his phone, trying to calm himself.

_Yeah.  Now?_

Another minute of silence passed before his phone started vibrating.  The screen showed “Mick would like to FaceTime.”  Ian took a deep breath and swiped the screen to answer.  After a few seconds, he was looking straight into Mickey Milkovich’s eyes.  The same blue eyes that had captured his attention so long ago.  Ian couldn’t help but smile.

Mickey returned the smile and Ian’s heart skipped a beat.  

“What’s up, Firecrotch?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, apologies for taking so long to update. Life is still...life. I'm gonna try and get started on the next chapter ASAP.

The shriek of the alarm woke Ian with a jolt. He groaned as he rolled over and reached for his phone to silence the offending noise. Grabbing blindly, his hand closed around it, but dropped it twice before he managed to swipe the screen, turning off the alarm. Rolling to his back, he set the phone on the bed and threw his right arm over his eyes. He was exhausted, but he couldn’t stop the smile forming across his face as he recalled the previous night.

He was on the phone, well FaceTime, with Mickey off and on (more on than off) until 2am. Mickey had to hang up twice, once when his bandmates crashed the back room Mickey had commandeered to talk and then again when the bus pulled over at a truck stop. They talked about everything and nothing, drinking a good majority of the time. It was amazing and Ian was still floating on cloud nine. It was a great conversation where they just talked and really started to get to know each other. They chatted about the neighborhood and growing up on the South Side. Mickey asked Ian about his classes and then talked about what life was like on the road. They played a stupid game of word association after they were both kinda drunk and Ian chuckled recalling Mickey’s answer to “bliss.” 

_The moment right after orgasm, with the cock still in my ass._

Ian sighed heavily as he thought about possibly having that moment with Mickey. Twelve hours ago it was just a pipe dream. A fantasy. But now? Well, it wasn’t a given at all, but he was much closer than he was yesterday. Maybe someday. He couldn’t help the smile the broke out when he recalled how Mickey looked when he lost himself in that thought. His beautiful mouth slack, his blue eyes even bluer, and a small grin creeping across his lips.

He picked up his phone again, the itch to text Mickey almost more than he could deny. It was way early and he doubted Mickey would be awake at 6am. Now that he had spent a few minutes thinking about what happened, he was awake and his body thrummed with energy. He set the phone back down and hauled his ass out of bed, throwing on a pair of shorts and tank top. He knew a good hard run was what he needed. He grabbed his phone and found his earbuds on the dresser and headed out for just that.

When Ian returned an hour later, sweaty, breathing hard and feeling rejuvenated, Lip was awake and had his head buried in the refrigerator. Ian took a deep breath and the smell of coffee permeated his lungs. Ian slammed the door shut and Lip’s head popped up, a cigarette hanging from his lips. 

“Good run?” Lip asked and took a long drag from the cigarette.

“Mhmmm,” Ian replied dreamily, tearing his earbuds from his head and setting his phone down on the table.

“So?”

Ian walked past Lip to the linen closet in the hallway, grabbing a towel. He wiped the sweat from his head and face before wrapping the towel around his neck.

“Earth to Ian?” Lip snapped his fingers. Ian still did not respond. “YO. IAN!” Lip shouted, clapping his hands. Ian jumped and looked at Lip.

“What?”

“So? Did you ever hear from lover boy last night? I’m guessing by the dreamy look on your face you must have.”

Ian sighed, his lips twitching upwards. “I did.”

Lip closed the refrigerator door and poured himself a cup of coffee. He blew on it before taking a sip. “And?”

“It was…good,” Ian told him, not sure how much he wanted to divulge to Lip.

“Just good?”

Ian paused, watching Lip take another sip of coffee. He crossed the apartment to the kitchen and poured himself a cup. He couldn’t prevent the smile from forming on his face.

Lip noticed and chuckled. “Ok, so it was more than good?”

“It was great, Lip,” Ian said, unable to contain his excitement any longer. “He texted me, and we did that for a bit. But then he wanted to FaceTime. And we were on the phone until like 2am.”

The coffee cup that was making its way to Lip’s mouth stopped and was lowered again, his face. “Seriously? You went into your room at like 10pm!”

“Mhmm,” Ian said before taking a sip of the hot, delicious brew.

Lip smirked and brought the cup to his lips, taking a long drink. “You just gonna leave me hanging? What happened?”

“We talked. About everything and nothing. About growing up on the South Side. About college. Life on the road. Stupid shit.”

“Oh my god, I wish I had my phone because you have this idiotic, dreamy look on your face right now.”

Ian smacked Lip on the arm. “Fuck you.”

“I think that’s illegal in Illinois so I’ll leave that to Mickey Milkovich.”

Ian’s face felt get hot as blood rushed to it.

“Oh my god, you guys didn’t have FaceTime sex, did you?”

Ian set the coffee mug on the counter. “No. God. Jesus, Lip.”

Lip shrugged. “Just askin’. So what’s next?”

“Well. Rub and Tug is going to be in Chicago on Friday. And Mick said he wanted me to come and would put me on the guest list.”

“So…you’re gonna meet?”

“We already have. Back when I worked at Kash and Grab.”

“Huh?”

“Well, I mean, he remembered me from there and I do kinda remember him coming in with his brothers a few times.”

“Oh, ok, so you’ve met. But this time in a totally different capacity.”

“Yeah, I think so. I get a plus one. Wanna go with me?” Ian asked.

“You want me to go with you?”

Ian shrugged. “I could use the moral support?”

Lip chuckled. “Never known you to be nervous about meeting a boy. I mean, you went after Kash with no abandon.”

“This is different. I can’t explain why. It just is.” 

Lip took a drink of his coffee and looked hard at Ian. “Ok, yeah. Sure, I’ll go. But. I want cab fare home before we walk in, in case things go well between you assholes.”

Ian smiled. “Done.”

 

Friday arrived and Ian could barely get through his classes. He and Mickey had either texted or FaceTimed every night leading up until this. The previous night Mickey had asked him three separate times if he was coming to the show and each time, Ian assured him that he would be there. Ian couldn’t concentrate on his classes and knew he walked around the campus with a stupid grin on his face. He tried not to have expectations for the evening, but no matter how hard he tried, he knew what he hoped would happen that night. It was hard not to.

Ian got home from class, showered then stood in front of his closet trying to figure out what to wear. He completely lost track of time and was deep in his thoughts, daydreaming about what he hoped would happen that evening.

“You are such a lovesick teenage girl, oh my god.” Lip’s voice jolted him from his current daydream of having Mickey pressed up against the wall, Ian’s tongue down his throat and his hand down Mickey’s pants.

Ian whipped around and flipped Lip the finger. “Fuck you, asshole.”

Lip stood in the doorway, his hand over his mouth trying to hide his laugh. “Dude, how long have you been standing there staring at your closet?”

“Again. Fuck you.”

“Jeans and a t-shirt bro. It’s not like he’s taking you to prom or something.”

Ian sighed, knowing Lip was right. He grabbed a pair of jeans from the closet and tossed them on the bed. He walked over to the dresser and threw a drawer open and grabbed the t-shirt on top of the pile crammed in there. He gestured to the clothes.“There, you happy?”

Lip shook his head and waved his hand at Ian. “Whatever dude. What time do you want to leave?”

Ian grabbed his phone from the dresser checking the time. “Show starts at seven, so I don’t know. Six?”

Lip nodded. “Okay. That gives you an hour to figure out what you’re going to wear for your big date.”

“Jesus, Lip. You’re such an dick.”

“I know. It’s great, isn’t it?” Lip chuckled as he turned and left.

 

They arrived at the club about 6:30 and as promised there were two tickets and two backstage passes under Ian’s name. Ian couldn’t help the smirk that formed as he slapped his backstage pass onto his shirt. And he wasn’t going to lie to himself that he didn’t get at least a small sense of satisfaction from the envious looks they got as he and Lip walked through the club, and girls whispering to each other as they walked past. He knew they were jealous of his pass and it made Ian happy knowing what had transpired between him and Mickey the last few days. And these girls had no idea.

He and Lip made their way to a bar in the back as the opening band started. Ian leaned against it as he sipped his beer and half-assedly listened to the first band. He didn’t particularly care about them, he was just there for Mickey. At some point during their set, Lip leaned over to him and said “They’re not bad,” but Ian just shrugged, too lost in his own thoughts.

Finally the set ended. Ian ordered another beer and then nudged Lip with his elbow. “I’m going to head towards the front.”

Lip nodded and made no move to leave. Ian was grateful and smacked Lip on the shoulder and started making his way through the crowd. He found a space about ten feet from the stage. He nursed his beer as the roadies finished setting up the equipment and performed a quick sound check. The club went dark, the crowd screamed and Ian’s stomach filled with butterflies. From this close he could sense movement on the stage and could barely make out the drummer getting set up behind his kit. 

The crowd quieted. The silence was suddenly pierced with the sound of drumsticks slapping together in a four count and then all the lights came up as the opening riff screamed through the air. Ian’s heart leapt into his chest as he scanned the stage. The only position empty was the lead singer. The band continued playing and just when Ian thought his heart would explode through his chest from anticipation, Mickey ran onto the stage.

It was weird, seeing Mickey in person after the conversations that they had. Ian didn’t know how he would feel seeing Mickey in person, but this wasn’t what he expected. It was almost. Surreal. He looked different from the FaceTime conversations, with the eyeliner and spiked hair, but it was still Mickey.

Ian’s head bounced to the beat and he sang along (of course he knew all the words), his eyes never leaving Mickey. Mickey was a born entertainer and looked completely at home on stage. He played to the crowd and was slapping hands and bumping fists as he sang at the opposite end of the stage, slowly making his way to the other side. As he drew closer, Ian’s heart started pounding harder and faster. Would Mickey even see him? Would he recognize him? Would he acknowledge him?

Mickey finally made his way over to his side of the stage and Ian’s questions were answered immediately. After a few hand slaps and fist bumps, Mickey looked out into the crowd and their eyes met. Without missing a beat from the song, Mickey’s face erupted into a huge smile and we winked at Ian. Ian smiled and winked back, raising his beer in acknowledgment.

Mickey pointed at him and nodded before running back to the middle of the stage. Ian’s whole body thrummed with excitement. Mickey saw him, knew who he was, and winked and smiled at him. So far, things were going as well as he’d hoped.

 

Rub and Tug’s set was finished and they were fantastic and Ian’s body was pulsing with adrenaline. The crowd began to dissipate and Ian slowly made his way back towards the bar and Lip.

“Your boyfriend’s band is pretty good live.”

Ian smacked Lip upside the head. “Knock it off, he’s not my boyfriend.”

“Afraid I’m going to jinx it?” Lip joked.

Ian caught the bartender’s attention and held up his empty bottle and pointed. He turned his head and glared at Lip. “Shut up, asshole.”

Lip chuckled as he brought his bottle to his lips. “Such a teenage girl.”

“Fuck you,” Ian said to him as the bartender placed the bottle in front of him.

Lip opened his mouth to reply and Ian pointed at him.”Don’t.”

Lip snapped his mouth shut. “Fine. So what now?”

“Umm, I don’t really know. I guess we just head backstage?”

Lip took a long pull from his bottle. “I’ll tell you what. I’m just gonna stay here. You go ahead. If things go well, shoot me a text and I’ll find a cab home. If I don’t hear anything from you in like 20 minutes, I’ll hang out and wait and we can head back home together. Or until I get a text from you.”

“Okay,” Ian replied and his heart started pounding. He wanted Lip for the moral support, but he really didn’t want Lip there crushing the vibe either. He knew he needed to do this alone. “I’ll try and text you one way or another as soon as I can.”

Lip tipped the neck of his beer bottle towards Ian. “God speed brother. Hopefully one of us will get laid tonight.”

“Amen,” Ian said and smirked, clinking the neck of his bottle with Lip’s. He pushed himself off the bar and made his way to the stage door. A large man sat on a stool to the side of it and noticing the pass plastered to Ian’s shirt, nodded as Ian pushed the door open.

The door slammed behind him and Ian found himself in a well-lit hallway. He looked both directions, unsure of where he was supposed to go. Some short, lanky guy dressed all in black came around a corner and looked up at Ian. “Looking for the after show?”

Ian nodded. “Yeah,” he said, his voice breaking.

“Follow me.”

Ian did so, falling in step behind the roadie. They walked to the left and then made a right and the roadie pointed at a door. “They’re in here. Have fun,” he told Ian and then continued down the hallway. Ian stood in front of the door, his heart rate increasing and his breath catching. _It’s now or never, Gallagher._

One final deep breath and Ian pushed the door open. The room wasn’t as packed as he expected. Maybe twenty people or so. He walked further into the room, scanning for Mickey, but not finding him. He felt a tap on his shoulder.

Ian spun around and found himself looking into beautiful blue gorgeous eyes and a smile. Blue eyes he’d been staring at on his phone for days now and a smile he’d know anywhere. He couldn’t stop the grin forming if he wanted to.

“What’s goin’ on, Firecrotch?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay. I've been working on this chapter in bits and pieces, but here it is.

Ian’s grin grew larger and he felt his face get hot. “What’s up, Mick?”

They stood there awkwardly for a few moments, neither one knowing what to say next. “So, you want a beer or somethin’,” Mickey asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Ian replied. Mickey grabbed his bicep and squeezed then turned and started walking the other direction. Ian stood there and rubbed the spot where Mickey had touched him. It tingled.

After a few paces Mickey turned, his eyebrows raised. “You comin’ or what?”

Ian nodded and made his way towards Mickey. They crossed the room together and Mickey stopped in front of a large stainless steel refrigerator. “What do you want? There’s Miller, Budweiser, PBR, Old Style?”

“Old Style,” Ian said.

“You really are South Side,” Mickey told him, a smile erupting on his face. He stuck his head into the fridge and emerged with two cans of Old Style. He handed one to Ian and cracked his own open, holding it out.

“Cheers,” Ian said, touching his can to Mickey’s. They both brought the can to their mouths, pausing and smiling at each other before chugging a good portion of the can.

“So…” Mickey started, picking at the tab on his can.

“So,” Ian repeated. “The show was fantastic. You were amazing, Mick.”

Mickey blushed and Ian couldn’t stop the smile forming on his lips. “Thanks. The rest of the guys make the show. I just stand there and yell into the microphone.”

“Nah, you’re fantastic, Mick. You sing and get the crowd into it. You’re really great up there.”

“Really?”

Ian lifted his beer again. “Really. Rub and Tug wouldn’t be the same without you.”

That electric grin spread across Mickey’s face again and Ian’s whole body trembled. “So look, I gotta do this fan thing for a little bit. Mingle, say hi, sign a few autograph, snap a few selfies. Can you hang around?”

“Sure, absolutely,” Ian nodded.

“Fucking awesome. After that, maybe we can get out of here?”

Ian smiled. “That sounds great.”

“Ok, so. Um. Just…I don’t know. Hang tight? Help yourself to whatever you want,” Mickey said, his arm sweeping across the room. There was the refrigerator they’d already been in, but also a table with food and snacks on it. “Hopefully this won’t take more than half an hour.”

“No problem.”

Mickey looked at Ian, his head tilted to the right. “You good?”

“I’m good, Mick.”

Mickey smiled and nodded his head again before walking by Ian. As he passed, Mickey stroked Ian’s arm and Ian’s flesh broke out in goosebumps and he felt his cock stir. Fuck, just a touch and I’m almost hard. How am I going to get through tonight?

It ended up taking close to forty minutes before Mickey was finished with his fan obligations. Ian made his way to the food and grabbed a handful of potato chips and found a spot on a couch. He sat there and watched Mickey interact with both his fans and his fellow band mates. He seemed so at ease in this setting, chatting with the fans, signing autographs and flashing that million watt smile whenever one of them pulled out their phone or camera.

The last photo snapped and last autographed signed, Mickey looked up and scanned the room for Ian. Their eyes met and Mickey cocked his head towards the door. Ian nodded in agreement and stood. They met at the door and Mickey opened, it gesturing for Ian to go through first. Once in the hallway they stopped.

“So,” Mickey said.

“So,” Ian repeated.

“Any place in particular you want to go?”

Ian shrugged. “Totally your call.”

Mickey rubbed his chin in an exaggerated manner, acting like he was thinking deep and hard. “I got it. Follow me.”

He brushed past Ian and grabbed his hand, dragging him along. Ian looked down at their joined hands and smiled, allowing Mickey to drag him along. They pushed through a door and found themselves outside in an alley. They made their way towards the street, Mickey still holding tightly onto Ian’s hand. A cab approached and Mickey threw his arm into the air and waved. The cab stopped and Mickey opened the back door, crawling in and dragging Ian behind him.

“The Alibi Room,” Mickey told the cabbie.

The cabbie turned around and looked at them both with a confused look on his face. Ian looked at Mickey and grinned then gave the cabbie the address. He sat back and turned his head to gaze at Mickey. Their eyes met and no one could deny the electricity in the air. Ian couldn’t look away and knew what he wanted. 

“What?” Mickey asked, shifting in the seat so his body was angled towards Ian.

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

Mickey smirked. “So what’s stoppin’ ya?”

Ian’s whole body shook as he took that in. He paused for just a moment before leaning over and touching his lips to Mickey’s. They were soft and pliant and gave to Ian’s. Ian spread his lips and swiped his tongue across Mickey’s, sighing when Mickey’s lips parted. He slid his tongue into Mickey’s mouth, exploring and becoming more insistent. Mickey groaned and snaked his hand to the back of Ian’s head, holding them in place as they kissed. The kiss grew deeper and Ian groaned when Mickey’s hand squeezed the back of his neck, his own hand sliding along Mickey’s waist and pulling him closer. Their teeth knocked as the kiss became feverish. Mickey moved closer and crawled into Ian’s lap, straddling him, his hands gripping Ian’s face. He broke the kiss, both of them breathing heavily, sucking in air.

“Holy shit,” Ian gasped. The cab was stopped at a red light, a street lamp illuminating the interior and Ian could see Mickey’s lips were swollen from their kissing. Ian licked his own lips, desperate to have them back on Mickey’s.

Mickey nodded, his lips spread wide in a smile, and kissed him again. Lightly at first, his lips practically ghosting over Ian’s. Ian tightened his grip on Mickey’s hips, his hands moving and grabbing Mickey’s ass, pulling them even closer together. Mickey opened his mouth slightly and sucked Ian’s bottom lip into his mouth, biting it before releasing it. They stared into each other’s eyes, still trying to catch their breath, both of them oblivious to what was happening around them. At that moment it was just the two of them and neither one could look away.

The moment was broken when the cabbie cleared his throat loudly. “Guys! We’re here.” 

They jumped apart, both breathing heavily. Mickey reached into his pocket and thrust a handful of bills through the opening and shoved his shoulder against Ian. Ian opened the door and they both spilled out of the cab.

“You ready for this?” Ian asked his eyebrows raised.

Mickey grinned and shrugged. “I used to hang out here a lot. I miss this place.”

Ian stepped to the door, grabbing the handle and tugging the door open. “After you.”

Mickey’s smile widened and he nodded before stepping through the doorway. Ian followed, letting the door close behind him.

“Ho. Lee. Shit. As I live and breathe,” the bartender shouted. “Mickey fucking Milkovich.”

Mickey felt his face grow hot and his head dipped before looking up. He made his way to the bar and grasped the outstretched hand in his own and squeezed. “Kev Ball. What the fuck is up?”

“I could ask the same of you, asshole. What the fuck are you doing, rock star, slumming it in this shit hole?”

Mickey laughed. “Trying to remember my roots, fuck nuts.”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me,” Kev joked. 

Mickey smiled, feeling immediately at ease. It was good to be home. “Aww, Kev. You know you’re not my type. Besides, how’s the wife?”

“Yeah, I know. But Vee’s good, we’re good,” Kev replied, nodding his head at Ian, extending his hand. “What’s up, Gallagher?”

Ian slapped his hand into Kev’s. “Not much.”

“What can I get you guys? First round is on the house, in honor of this prodigal son returning.”

“A couple of beers,” Mickey told him then looked at Ian, his eyebrows raised. “You up for a shot, Red?”

The corner of Ian’s mouth curled into a smirk. “I can handle whatever you can dish up.”

“We’ll see about that, firecrotch,” Mickey said, smiling. Ian’s whole body tingled from that one smile.

Mickey turned back to the bar, waving his hand. “You heard the man. Line ‘em up.”

Kevin set a pitcher of beer in front of them and grabbed three shot glasses and set them on the bar. He looked at the bottles below before turning around. He snatched one of the bottles from behind the bar. “A bona fide celebrity in my bar, this calls for the good shit,” he said, pouring an amber liquid into the three glasses.

Mickey picked one up and gestured for Ian to do the same. When all three had their glasses raised, Mickey looked at the two of them and raised his a little higher. “To the motherfucking South Side.”

Ian and Kevin clinked their shot glass with Mickey’s and all three threw back the shot. Mickey slammed his upside down on the bar and grabbed the pitcher, pouring a beer for him and Ian. “Thanks, Kev.”

Kevin tipped his glass to Mickey. “Welcome home, Mickey,” he said and made his way to the other end of the bar to wait on another customer.

Mickey grabbed his glass and pitcher and pointed to a booth in the corner. “That okay with you?”

Ian picked up his glass and took a sip. “Fine by me.”

They walked to the booth and each slipped in on one side. Mickey set the pitcher down between them and raised his glass again. “So, to us.”

“Aww, Mick, are you getting all romantic on me?” Ian joked, unable to resist.

“Fuck you, asshole,” Mickey said, dropping his head to hide his face that burned red with embarrassment. 

Ian reached across the table and grabbed Mickey’s hand, feeling very much like the asshole Mickey had just accused him of being. “Mick, I’m sorry. You’re right, I am an asshole.”

Mickey raised his head slowly, an evil grin spreading across his face. He brought the glass to his lip and downed it in one go. He squeezed Ian’s hand. “You are so gullible, Red.”

Ian pursed his lips, realizing Mickey had played him. He lifted the beer. “Fuck you, Milkovich,” he said and gulped down his own glass of beer.

“If you play your cards right,” Mickey told him, pouring them each another beer.

Ian’s mouth dropped open and Mickey looked up. Biting his lower lip, he met Ian’s eyes and slid the now full glass across the table. Ian grabbed the pint glass and slammed the entire contents, unable to form words to respond. Mickey chuckled and then winked at Ian. _Did he just? He did. Uhhhh…_

“If I play my cards right, eh?”

Mickey shrugged, unable to look Ian in the eye. He filled Ian’s glass instead. “Well, ya know.”

“No, I don’t know. Tell me, Mick,” Ian said, sensing Mickey turning a little bit shy and deciding to milk it.

“So, did you have class today?” Mickey asked, desperate to change the subject.

Ian chuckled and decided to let Mickey off the hook. “Yeah, but Friday is my light day so it wasn’t so bad.”

For the next hour or so, they talked easily. Ian told Mickey more about school and Mickey answered questions Ian had about what it was like on the road. The conversation was effortless and devolved into a silly game of ‘What’s your favorite…” Kev came to the table twice with a fresh pitcher and neither of their glasses were never empty for very long. The more buzzed they got, the more personal the conversation became. They were ribbing back and forth, spewing out questions one after the other, trying to catch each other off guard. Sucking down the last of his beer, Ian got bold.

“Favorite position?”

The glass Mickey had been raising to his lips paused briefly. Mickey’s eyes closed and he sucked down the rest of the contents. Setting the empty glass on the table, he looked up and met Ian’s eyes. “I want to ride you, Gallagher.”

“Jesus,” Ian gasped.

Mickey smirked and reached for his wallet. He grabbed several bills, threw them on the table and stood. “You wanna get out of here or what?”

Ian downed the last of his beer and nodded.

Mickey jerked his head towards the door and started walking in that direction. He threw his hand up as he walked past the bar. “Later, asshole!”

Kev threw a thumbs up in the air. “Thanks for slumming it for a bit, rock star! See ya next time.”

Mickey pushed through the door and Ian him followed out into the cool Chicago night. He took a deep breath and turned. Mickey was leaning with his back against the building, one foot crossed in front of the other, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Ian couldn’t help but leer.

“What?” Mickey asked.

Ian crossed the distance between them in three large strides and pinned Mickey’s body to the building. He pulled the cigarette from Mickey’s lips and replaced it with his mouth. The kiss was hungry and rough. Ian’s hands grabbed Mickey’s ass and squeezed, pulling their hips together. Mickey groaned and hooked his left leg around Ian’s thigh, his hands threading through Ian’s hair. Both of them were hard and Ian ground his erection against Mickey’s. They both gasped and the kiss grew insistent and desperate and only ended when neither could breathe. They looked into each other’s eyes, both of their chests heaving, neither one really able to move, nor wanting to, their hips still slightly bucking. Mickey finally broke the gaze and looked over Ian’s shoulder. He pushed Ian away and raised his arm and waved.

“TAXI!”


	5. Chapter 5

Mickey slammed the door to his hotel room shut and leaned up against it, breathing heavily. The cab ride from the Alibi room had Ian and him all over each other. He raised his head and met Ian’s gaze. His whole body flushed with heat and he chewed his lower lip, not understanding why he was so nervous. He had done this more times than he was willing to admit. Why was it different with Ian?  
  
“So,” he started, his voice quivering.  
  
“So,” Ian countered.  
  
“We’re here,” Mickey responded, unsure of his next move. _Get a fucking grip, Milkovich. Jesus fucking Christ._  
  
“We are,” Ian said, smirking and his gaze turning predatory.  
  
Mickey felt his cock begin to harden with that one smirk and he gulped. “Yeah.”  
  
Ian tilted his head, the grin spreading across his mouth. “So, now what?”  
  
“Um,” Mickey said. _What the fuck is the matter with you? Go get what you want asshole._  
  
Ian took a step forward. “Yeah.” He took another step forward. And then another. He was now standing directly in front of Mickey.  
  
“Fuck it,” Mickey said and grabbed the back of Ian’s neck, crashing their lips together.  
  
Ian groaned and pressed his body against Mickey’s pinning him against the door. He slid his hands along Mickey’s hips to his ass and squeezed, pulling Mickey flush against himself. Ian swiped his tongue across Mickey’s lips and back again. Mickey opened his mouth and moaned as Ian’s tongue slid against his. The kiss intensified and hands started groping and moving frantically over each others bodies.  
  
“Bed,” Ian said, breaking the kiss.   
  
Mickey shoved Ian’s chest, pushing him towards the bed in the middle of the hotel room. Ian stopped when he felt the back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress. He grabbed Mickey’s hips tightly and turned them, shoving Mickey down onto the bed.  
  
“Fuck, Gallagher,” Mickey breathed as his hands grasped at the bedspread.  
  
Ian smirked and lowered himself on top of Mickey, pressing their bodies together, his hands flat on the bed next to Mickey’s head, their faces inches from each other.  Close enough they could feel each others breaths. “That’s the plan. If you want it.”  
  
“If I want it,” Mickey repeated. “Jesus Fucking Christ, Gallagher, you need an engraved invitation?” Mickey asked, sealing their lips in a desperate kiss and grinding his groin against Ian’s.  
  
Ian reciprocated Mickey’s feverish kiss and a gasp escaped his lips as Mickey’s hard cock ground against his own. “Fuck, Mick,” he managed, finding his voice as they broke for air.  
  
Mickey peppered his lips along Ian’s jaw, moving back and capturing Ian’s ear lobe between his teeth and biting down. Releasing the skin, he breathed into Ian’s ear. “Yeah, that’s the idea, Firecrotch.”  
  
“Mickey,” Ian moaned, grasping the hem of Mickey’s t-shirt and pulling it up. Mickey lifted his shoulders off the bed and Ian pulled it over his head and tossed the garment on the floor, his lips immediately finding Mickey’s again. Mickey’s hands grabbed at Ian’s shirt, yanking it up over his torso, getting tangled in Ian’s head and limbs.  
  
“Goddammit,” Mickey shouted, still fighting with the offending garment. Ian sat up, trying to get the shirt untangled and over his head. “I’m going to rip this fucker apart if you don’t get it off in the next two seconds!”  
  
Mickey swore he heard Ian chuckle as the shirt was removed and all that glorious skin was presented to Mickey. He slid his hands up Ian’s muscled torso and circled around his neck, pulling Ian down on top of him.  
  
“Hey,” Ian said, his hand stroking Mickey’s gelled hair as he met his eyes with Mickey’s.  
  
“Hey,” Mickey responded. He hooked his right leg around Ian’s hip and raised his hips, grinding against Ian.  
  
“You want something?” Ian asked, grabbing Mickey’s hand, threading their fingers together and stretching the arm over Mickey’s head.  
  
Mickey’s tongue escaped his mouth and swiped over his lips before his eyes met Ian’s. “Yes. You.”  
  
A gasp escaped Ian’s mouth as the weight of what Mickey said settled in Ian’s mind. “I’m yours, Mick. What do you want?”  
  
“Jesus fucking Christ. Get on me, Gallagher,” Mickey said, grinding his pelvis against Ian’s.   
  
Ian groaned and lifted himself up off Mickey, fumbling with his own belt. He needed his pants off now. As his hands found the button and zipper he stole a glance at Mickey who was struggling with his own jeans. Finally Ian’s fingers were able to flick open the button and he raked the zipper down. Rolling off Mickey, he shoved his pants and boxers down and threw them across the room. Rising to his knees he looked at Mickey. “Condom? Lube?”  
  
Mickey had just managed to get his jeans open and was shoving them down his thighs. “Black bag. On the floor. Next to the bed.”  
  
Ian scrambled to the edge of the bed and found the bag. He pulled it open and fished his hand in, feeling around for the necessary items. “Aha!” He exclaimed as his hand closed around a bottle. He leaned over and rustled through the bag, finally finding a pack of condoms. Ian sat up, tossed them on the bed and looked at Mickey, stretched out on the bed naked.  “Fuck.”  
  
Mickey smirked and slowly stroked his cock, teasing Ian. “Again, that is the point Gallagher. What are you waiting for?”  
  
“Nothing,” Ian said, crawling across the bed and straddling Mickey, his hands on either side of his head. He stared into Mickey’s eyes, and noticed they were even more blue than usual. Leaning down, he crashed his lips to Mickey’s. Their tongues tangled and Ian rolled his hips, sliding his hard cock against Mickey’s. Mickey groaned against Ian’s mouth and Ian bit down on Mickey’s bottom lip before sliding his tongue back into Mickey’s mouth.  
  
“Ian,” Mickey moaned, his hands grabbing Ian’s ass and pulling their groins together. “Please!”  
  
Ian stuck his hand out, feeling blindly for the condom and lube before finding it. He closed his fist over both of them, the kiss growing hotter. He deposited them next to Mickey’s head, his hand now free to thread into Mickey’s dark locks. They lost themselves in the kiss, time standing still, the only sound was their lips parting briefly before finding each other again. Ian moaned and then tightened his grip on Mickey’s hair and pressing his body even harder against Mickey’s body. There was nothing but the two of them. And then a loud beeping. Ian tried to ignore it as he continued his assault on Mickey’s mouth, once again rolling his hips to provide some sort of friction to their cocks. Mickey moaned but the beeping continued.  
  
“Turn it off, Gallagher,” Mickey groaned, breaking the kiss momentarily.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Your alarm. Turn it off.”  
  
“What alarm?” Ian asked, the beeping continuing and growing more annoying.  
  
“I’m losing my hard on. Turn it the fuck off.”  
   
Ian pulled up and looked into Mickey’s eyes before turning to look at the nightstand. What the fuck is that beeping? Ian glanced around the room trying to find the source of the offending noise. “I don’t know what it is Mickey.”  
  
“Jesus fucking Christ, Gallagher. It’s your alarm. Turn it off!”  
  
Ian noticed his phone on the nightstand and scrambled off Mickey to grab it. He reached for it…  
  
Ian sat up, his entire body covered in sweat, the alarm on his phone screeching. He grabbed it and looked at the screen. 6:30am. He swiped the screen, silencing the alarm and flopped back down onto his pillow, breathing heavily, his cock hard and tenting his boxers.  
  
 _It was just a dream. Fuck._  
  
Ian groaned and rolled onto his side, burying his head under his arm, a loud sigh escaping him. Nothing but a dream. He was meeting Mickey tonight after the show, but apparently his mind got just a little ahead of him. Ian sighed and sat up.  
  
 _I should be so lucky._  
       
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fear not. They will meet.
> 
> And thanks to those of you still here. I know I've been so slow to update. I've been working on this for so long and I apologize for the delay.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Flaws" by Bastille
> 
> This is my first foray into writing Gallavich. My apologies. ;)


End file.
